


Bucky hates hipsters (until he doesn't)

by Enochianess



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Hipsters, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 21:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13533084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enochianess/pseuds/Enochianess
Summary: Steve Rogers is a hipster – Bucky hates him on principle (except he's totally falling in love with him)





	Bucky hates hipsters (until he doesn't)

If there is one thing that Bucky hates, it’s hipsters.

They’re all grade-A assholes.

Read this definition of them:

_“Definitions are too mainstream.”_

(Bucky is glaring at his laptop as he reads it himself, his hands balling with irrational rage)

Idiots – the lot of them, Bucky thinks.

It’s this simple fact (the one in which he _hates_ hipsters) that makes him so annoyed with himself when he pulls a soaking wet Natasha out of the rain and ends up in a coffee shop called – _The Grind_.

(The lack of originality wounds Bucky)

They’re both dripping with rainwater, a small puddle forming at their feet, and shivering from the February chill. Bucky sighs in relief, eyes closed, at the feeling of dry heat coming from a radiator beside him.

“Thank Hades and all that is evil,” Natasha says.

(She’s going through a phase)

“I thought my fingertips were going to fall off, or, worse, my dick,” Bucky says.

“Good men will fall before that will ever happen, JB,” Natasha says, patting Bucky’s shoulder. "Your dick is a national treasure."

“Hiya, folks,” a deep voice says. “Welcome to _The Grind.”_

Bucky opens his eyes, frowning when he sees nothing but the top of someone’s head. Then he looks down and makes an embarrassing – _gah! –_ sound.

The man has floppy blond hair, a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. He has the most beautiful cornflower-blue eyes and the smallest smattering of freckles on the crooked arch of his nose.

He’s _perfect._

He is.

Except he’s a total hipster and Bucky has been betrayed by the universe.

The badge on his tattered, old flannel shirt states him to be “Hi! I’m Steve!” and Bucky wishes he could speak to “Hi! I’m Steve!”’s mother and reverse whatever led to the tomfool-douche-ery.

“I’m Steve,” Steve says.

“Nice to meet you,” Natasha says, elbowing Bucky in the side when he stays silent.

“Yeah, I’m Bucky.”

Hipster Steve nods and points to an empty brown leather couch that is pushed against the exposed brick wall.

“Sit there if you want and I’ll bring you your coffees,” Steve says.

“We haven’t even ordered anything yet,” Bucky says.

“I know,” Steve replies. He winks and then walks away.

“Fucking hipsters,” Bucky mumbles under his breath. “What does that even mean?”

“I think he’s going to surprise us,” Natasha says, pointing to a sign on the wall that reads:

_“If we guess wrong and you hate it – we’ll remake it to your requirements”_

“I’m not paying for an overpriced coffee that I didn’t even order,” Bucky huffs, sitting beside Natasha on the couch.

(He hates how comfy and homely it is)

“Well, then yours can be on the house if you hate it so much,” Steve says, suddenly there and placing a tray down on the coffee table in front of them.

Bucky flushes red because even if he does hate hipsters on principle, Winifred Barnes raised him to have manners.

“Um, thanks,” Bucky mumbles, embarrassed.

He can feel Natasha smirking beside him and he stamps on her foot as discretely as possible.

If Steve’s own little smirk is anything to go by, he sees it anyway.

“Let me know about the drink, Buck,” Steve says.

Bucky nods, smiling tightly at him. “Will do.”

He takes a sip the moment Steve is gone and damn it all because it’s like heaven – the perfect concoction of coffee and milk and chocolate, as if designed to tickle and stroke and tease each and every one of Bucky’s taste buds.

Bucky hates that he loves it because now he’s going to have to come back, isn’t he?

He’s going to have to talk to Steve again and act like hipsters don’t make him want to scratch his brains out, like in that one gross episode of _Supernatural._

Natasha looks entirely too smug.

**

“Listen to this, Nat:

_“The only sure fire way to tell if someone you're talking to is, in fact, a hipster is to ask them "are you a hipster?" If they respond no, and turn their casette player back on, you can be sure you're dealing with a hipster.”_

Like, this is exactly what Steve would do. I’m not reaching, right? He would legit do this,” Bucky says on the walk home, reading from his cracked phone screen.

“JB, he literally said, like, three words to you.”

“I bet his favourite beer is Pabst Blue Ribbon or some shit and he smokes Lucky Strikes,” Bucky mutters. “Nat, he’s a hipster.”

“So?”

Bucky gives Natasha a look (his signature – _girl, you say what?)_ and waves his hands in the air. “B-because! Hipsters are annoying and I could smell the pretentiousness two blocks away.”

“Then why did you drag me inside?”

“The rain dulled the smell,” Bucky grumbles.

“He was cute and I think he liked you. As always, you’re being stupid.”

“Why are the gorgeous ones always so freaky-deaky?”

“Being a hipster does not make him _freaky-deaky_. You’re the freaky-deaky one right now.”

“I can’t believe we’re friends. How dare you take his side over mine,” Bucky says, flipping his hair dramatically.

“Besides, JB, you don’t know that he’s a hipster.”

“He was wearing a flannel and an old band t-shirt and his jeans were practically glued to his legs.”

“Doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a hipster. You’re awful. Stop being so judgy of people all the time. Hipsters have feelings too. Do I have to call Winifred?”

“No, _Nat_ ,” Bucky whines. “I just- _hipsters._ Y’know?”

Natasha shakes her head and tuts. “No, I don’t. You’re closing yourself off to so many people and, like, the coffee there was fucking awesome. Would you really deprive yourself of that just because the barista is a hipster?”

“Probably not,” Bucky sighs, “but only because it was like heaven in a mug.”

“And Steve’s cute,” Natasha says, smirking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

(Steve totally is, but shush – _hipsters_ )

“So, are you gonna go back?” Natasha asks.

“No, absolutely not. Never in a million years.”

**

Bucky goes back.

(The coffee is good, so sue him)

Steve does not greet him at the door this time, presumably because it’s a lot busier today – it being a Saturday morning and all. Bucky looks around with a sigh, rolling his eyes when he notices that it’s full of hipsters either reading old, battered paperbacks, or sat using their Apple MacBook.

“So,” a deep voice says from behind the counter, “back so soon?”

Bucky sighs again, walking over to Steve. “Hi.”

“Thanks for paying for the coffee the other day. It wasn’t so bad, huh?”

“No, it, uh, was actually really good. So, um, thanks.”

Steve beams. “No problem. Want the same again?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says.

“Go take a seat. I’ll only be a moment. Oh, and do you want anything to eat? We’ve got some amazing new vegan bites.”

“No, I’m fine thanks,” Bucky says.

“Ah, I gotcha,” Steve says, winking. “You’re a big guy and vegan food is just for us skinny, hipster folk, huh?”

Bucky flushes, feeling caught out. “Uh, no. I know anyone can be a vegan. I have nothing against that… lifestyle.”

Steve laughs, grabbing a mug and pumping the syrup into it. “It’s okay, Buck. Lots of people don’t like vegans and hipsters.”

(OMG he remembered his name – _swoon_ )

“It’s not that-“

“It’s fine – your secret is safe with me.”

Bucky wants to protest further, but he knows himself and he knows he’ll only dig himself further into a hole. He sighs and walks over to a small two-person table in the corner, sitting down and dropping his elbows onto the table.

Steve is there with his coffee only a short moment later. He puts it on the table and pats Bucky gently on the shoulder. “Sorry for the teasing.”

Bucky smiles up at him tightly. “It’s okay. It’s not that I don’t like hipsters – they just look down on a lot of people.”

(Did he really just say that? _Serious face palm_ , Bucky.)

Luckily, Steve just laughs and sits opposite Bucky. “Oh, you mean like you’re doing right now.”

Bucky grumbles beneath his breath unintelligibly.

(Shit, shit, shitty, balls – he’s a dick)

“Look, I get it. Everyone hates hipsters because that’s the ‘in’ thing to do nowadays. You hate them because everyone hates them, right?”

“No, that’s not it,” Bucky says. “And I don’t _hate_ them. I mean, I don’t hate _you_. Shit, sorry.”

Bucky drops his face into his hands.

Steve tugs on Bucky’s wrists until Bucky drops his hands again. “You’re cute, even if you are an ignorant dick.”

“Hey,” Bucky protests, “I’m not a dick.”

(He is)

Steve laughs again and says, “You are, but how about you give me your number and I’ll forgive you?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, shrugging. “No obligation, obviously.”

“Um, sure. Yeah, okay,” Bucky says, pulling his phone from his coat pocket and unlocking it so he can pass it to Steve.

Steve enters his number and texts himself, then passes it back. Bucky laughs when he sees the contact name and the message Steve has sent.

**To Stupid hipster Steve (eye roll):** _Hi, it’s the dick that comes into the coffee shop_

“You’re something else,” Bucky says, smiling at Steve.

“Mhm,” Steve replies with a matching grin. “So, dick, are you going to ask me out on a date or what?”

Bucky laughs, a loud barking thing, positively thrilled by the little spitfire in front of him (even if he is a hipster). “Hipster Steve, would you like to go on a date?”

“I would like that very much.”

It is said so sincerely that Bucky really can’t be blamed for the fluttery feeling in his stomach and the softening of his hipster-hating heart.

(Bucky is fucked)

**

They meet in Central Park – neutral turf, as Steve calls it, because parks are neither hipster nor hipster-hating places.

(Steve likes to think he’s funny apparently)

Bucky is standing at the entrance at Columbus Circle, tapping his foot a little nervously. He smiles when he sees Steve crossing the street towards him, but he sighs (he seems to be doing that a lot lately) when he sees the pair of thick-framed glasses Steve is wearing. The worst thing? They look fucking amazing on him.

“Hiya,” Steve says, grinning widely once he’s standing in front of Bucky.

Fuck, were his eyes always that blue? Beautiful.

“Hi,” Bucky replies. He rubs a hand over his stomach when the butterflies start fluttering again.

“You look good, Buck. Although, I gotta say, you look a little hipster-ish.”

“What?” Bucky says, looking down frantically. When he looks back up, it’s to see Steve trying not to laugh. “Oh, ha-ha – very funny, wiseass.”

“You genuinely panicked for a second there. Brilliant.”

“Shut up and let me date you.”

Steve grins widely, his eyes sparkling and dancing with something that’s just… magical. “Okay, let’s go. What are we going to do?”

“Um, I actually don’t know. I thought you might have an idea,” Bucky says a little guiltily.

“Well, there’s actually this thrift store I really want to go to,” Steve starts, before laughing and saying, “Kidding. I wouldn’t do that to you, Buck.”

“No, I don’t mind. I actually buy a lot of stuff from those stores too. I’m a poor student,” Bucky says, shrugging.

They start walking into the park, shoulders brushing.

“Oh yeah?” Steve says. “What are you studying?”

“Engineering.”

Steve hums. “Sounds interesting. I’ve never had the brain for stuff like that.”

“What do you do then?”

“English Lit.”

“Naturally,” Bucky says with a smirk.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I know. A hipster studying literature – _classic_.”

“So you admit you’re a hipster then.”

“I’m not, but if I said that then you wouldn’t believe me. That’s what makes a hipster a hipster, right?”

“According to Urban Dictionary: ding-ding-ding. But literature – that’s really cool. I like reading, but I don’t think I could deal with all the analyzing. I’ve always thought it kind of takes from the experience.”

Steve hums. “Yeah, for some I think it does. I like reading into the philosophical underlying messages though, or the psychology behind the characters. Poetry is good too, if you can find the right poet.”

“What’s your favorite book?”

“Currently? I really enjoyed _A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius_ and _Open City._ My all time favorite is probably _To Kill a Mockingbird_ though, or maybe _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ because I fell in love with Johnny Nolan.”

“I haven’t heard of the first ones, but I enjoyed the others a lot.”

“What’s your favorite?” Steve asks. He reaches down and takes Bucky’s hand, threading their cold fingers together.

Bucky’s breath catches in his throat, but he squeezes back happily. “Um, probably _1Q84.”_

Steve laughs, bouncing his head off Bucky’s shoulder. “You do realize that’s, like, a major hipster book?”

“No, it’s not,” Bucky says, frowning.

“Oh, it totally is.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I bet you listen to vinyl.”

“I do.” Steve nods. “Not because it’s cool though, actually. My mom kept all her records from when she was younger and then when she died, I don’t know, I started listening to them and liked the sound quality.”

(Oh shit)

“Steve, I’m sorry. For your mom, I mean.”

Steve shrugs and looks down sadly. Bucky feels like such a tool.

“It’s okay. It’s been a couple of years now.”

“Well, I actually have a confession to make,” Bucky says, waiting for Steve to look up. When he does, Bucky says, “I actually prefer vinyl too.”

Steve smiles softly and squeezes Bucky’s hand. “I knew you were a secret hipster,” he whispers.

“What can I say,” Bucky says, shrugging, “my dad kept a lot of old records too. I practically grew up listening to them.”

“See, not all hipster stuff is stupid.”

“It is – mostly – but I like you, so I guess I can let it slide for you.”

(Wow, that was cheesy)

“You like me, huh?” Steve says, smirking.

Bucky nods a little shyly, swinging their hands between them.

“Well, I guess it’s a good job I like you too. This would be very awkward otherwise, wouldn’t it? A hipster turning down the ultimate hipster-hater.”

“Very,” Bucky agrees, laughing. “Don’t do it to me, Stevie.”

“With your pretty face? Never.”

Bucky flushes with pleasure – Steve thinks he’s pretty.

(Cue girly giggles)

“So, lets go to this thrift store before I change my mind,” Bucky says after a moment.

“I was joking. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, “but I wouldn’t mind going if you want.”

“Really? There’s this new one in Chelsea I’ve really been wanting to check out.”

“Show me your world,” Bucky says.

Steve smiles and Bucky thinks he’d go to as many stupid thrift stores as Steve liked if it’d make him glow like that again.

**

Bucky is leaning against the counter at the coffee shop, flirting with Steve, when a handsome black man appears next to him.

“So, you’re the hipster-hater then.”

Bucky’s eyes bug out. “Um, I don’t-”

Steve laughs, elbowing the guy in the ribs. “Sam, this is Bucky. Buck, this is my best friend Sam. I think you’ll get on pretty well, since you’re both dicks.”

“Hey,” Sam and Bucky say at the same time.

Steve shrugs. “I speak only truths.”

“I know for a fact that’s a lie,” Sam says, and then turns to Bucky to say, “Seriously, dude, don’t believe a word this kid says.”

“Well, he is a punk,” Bucky says, smiling down at where Steve is scowling at him.

“Yeah and you’re the world’s biggest jerk.”

“But you like me anyway,” Bucky sings.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I am fully prepared to reconsider that.”

“Sam, you seem like a reasonable, non-hipster person,” Bucky says.

Sam snorts.

“So, is Steve a punk, or is Steve a punk?”

“Oh, he’s a punk all right,” Sam says. “Doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass if you hurt him though.”

“Oh, uh,” Bucky stammers.

“He’s joking,” Steve says.

Sam shakes his head and mimes slitting Bucky’s throat.

This is how Bucky meets Sam.

(A couple of weeks later, they get on like a house on fire)

**

Bucky wishes he knew what he’s done wrong (or right) in his life to be sat on Steve Rogers’ ratty couch on a Saturday morning, eating a bowl of Lucky Stars as Steve reads to him from a Bukowski book (or something) – Bucky doesn’t claim to remember which hipster-type author Steve is obsessing over.

(Everything is all Bukowski to Bucky nowadays)

They’ve been on a lot of dates and non-dates now and Bucky can admit that maybe he’s falling a little bit (or a lot) in love with Steve.

When they’re not together, they’re texting, or on the phone, or Bucky is just sat alone pining over him (because Bucky is a pathetic mess). Bucky is the happiest he’s been in a long time – he thinks that says a lot for his feelings for Steve.

Whether Steve is a hipster or not – Bucky is completely gone on him.

He can't even bring himself to care when Natasha teases him. As he now says, _"Be a hipster-lover, not a hipster-hater."_

**

“I don’t know who I am anymore, Clint,” Bucky says, sighing dramatically. “He ticks all the boxes and I don’t even care.”

“Boxes?” Clint asks around a mouthful of pizza, gaze fixed on the television where he’s watching _Say Yes to the Dress._

“The hipster boxes. He’s a bona fide hipster and I’m basically in love with him.”

(Bucky feels all warm and fluttery on the inside – it’s just the norm nowadays)

“Barista Steve is a fine hipster that won’t bone you? Classic Steve.”

“How do you know he won’t bone me? I’ll have you know we’ve been doing plenty of that,” Bucky says indignantly. “Are you even listening to me, dude?”

Clint turns to look at Bucky, smiling. “Yeah. I’m just kidding around. I’m happy for you, man – really.”

“I don’t usually like hipsters.”

“Now that’s a lie.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You slept with Amy and Jessica from my Comms class. They’re both hipsters.”

Bucky sighs. “I have a thing for hipsters. I hate myself.”

“No, you don’t,” Clint says, laughing. “From what I’ve heard, Steve is a great guy – hipster or not.”

Bucky lights up and says, “He is – he’s the best.”

Clint puts an arm out and Bucky shuffles over and cuddles into his side. “I can’t wait to meet him then.”

“I really think I love him, Clint,” Bucky says quietly.

(He really, really does)

**

It's a few weeks later when they all get together: Steve, Bucky, Nat, Clint, and Sam.

No surprise – Clint and Natasha love Steve.

Bucky feels proud, his arm wrapped around Steve's shoulders in the booth of the hipster bar. He presses a kiss to the crown of Steve's head, and then one on the lips when Steve smiles up at him.

"I love you," Bucky whispers in his ear.

Steve grins so widely that it must hurt his cheeks and he whispers, "I love you too."

(This moment is just for them and he will treasure it forever)

"Hey, lovebirds," Sam says, "another beer?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, not looking away from Steve. "We'll have two Pabst Blue Ribbon's please."

Steve laughs, pressing his face into Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky looks over to his friends, biting the inside of his cheek to contain his smile when he notices how softly they're all looking at him and Steve.

"Shit, you guys are cute," Clint says.

"Yeah," Sam and Natasha both say, nodding.

"Cute hipster boyfriends," Clint says.

Bucky doesn't even care. After all, _"Be a hipster-lover, not a hipster-hater."_

(He's in love and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts)

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://enochianess.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you liked it, please leave kudos or comments!


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